My son woke up this morning and the first thing he said to me was, “Mom, I want to be magic.”
The only thing I could say to him was, “Me too, baby.”
We then went on to discuss how wonderful it would be to own a TARDIS.
I could see he was in pain. This lack of magic. This lack of a blue box. It hurts him. He’s a happy child. But this lack of magic really hurts him.
And I thought…this poor kid. If he’s anything like me it’s really not going to get better. He’s not going to “grow out of it”. He will probably try to stifle it. He might tell himself that his longing for otherworlds is silly and childish. And for a while he might believe it. He’ll try drugs and alcohol and they’ll be fun for a while. And hobbies. Sex. Girls. Boys. But it probably won’t go away. That need for an adventure is a parasite. Burrowed deep. And it wants more than what planes and money can do.
I know it won’t properly go away because I’m 33 years old now and I still wish I was magic. I still look at flowers and imagine that a fiary might pop out. I still think, “one day I’m going to walk into a cupboard and end up on a mountain” and I still think one day I will be able to type out blog posts using only my thoughts and not my fingers who are feeling a little cold right now.
I’ve been reading Lev Grossman’s The Magicians now for well over a month. The character of Julia is killing me which is making the experience kind of painful – which is why it is taking me so long to read. But then….it’s kind of always painful, isn’t it? It pains me that Hogwarts exists only in a netherrealm which is only accessible to my mind and not my body. It kills me that here is just here, which at the same times seems such a strange way to feel considering my capacity to be delighted by earthly things.
I sometimes wish I wasn’t a reader. I wish I wasn’t a creator. I wish that I could indulge in the quiet content that everyone else seems to manage so easily. I wish reading made me happy happy instead of devastated happy.
Some books take the sad away for a little while. Sometimes. When you find the right ones (which takes work). But only for a little while.
But then you get back to life and life is kind of lacking unicorns.
This here is my YA bookshelf. It’s kind of too full and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about that once I find more books to put in it. I might have to get my husband to build me that bookshelf that he’s been thinking about for a while. Poor guy — I don’t deserve him (but I will cut you if you try to convince him of that, just fyi). Anyway, I think I should make August “YA Month” for me. I find YA great for when you are feeling a little “guilty pleasure”-ish. I’m sorry if that offends. It’s not meant to. YA doesn’t demand from you what reading Atwood or Irving does. YA (often) is simple and sweet and enjoyable…and easy. I like the easy. I have to gear myself up for Irving, as I do with many “grown up” books. The intensity can be magnificently satisfying but it is also emotionally taxing. For now I definitely need a few “easy reads” so I’m going to dip into this shelf for a while before I move on to the heavier things. Now…If you’ll excuse me I’m off to make some reading choices as well as find some earplugs and make a cup of tea…
It seems I have inadvertently become a book buyer instead of a book reader these days. Once upon a time (when I was younger and my spending power was a little more compromised) I would buy books and read them immediately. And when I couldn’t buy books then I would re-read what I already had, or borrow a book from a friend, or take a trip to the library. Well, I haven’t been to the library in years now. Instead I have a massive library of my own. It’s beautiful. Looking at it makes me happy. And yet it seems that I am doing far less reading than I should be these days.
Why? Well….the internet probably. And, um….watching too much TV while playing Candy Crush-like games as a way to wind down at the end of the day. And…um….having a few “real” jobs which incorporate much reading-for-business instead of reading-for-pleasure.
Something’s gotta give.
I imagine the “something” is possibly me….
I’m doing better!! My badly failing reading life seems to be getting back on track which means that my contentment levels are a little more stable as well so I’m feeling rather “yay me!” at the moment. I’ve even got a requested review or two in the pipeline so there’s that as well – it feels like “giving back”. After quite a too-long while of feeling a little not-myself I am surely on track to being normal (for me!) again.
I’ve been spoiled with a new book to read as well: The Quick by Lauren Owen. It’s not often that I find myself with a relatively new book in my hands so I’m quite excited to get properly cracking with this one. So far I’m enjoying it.
The only problem is that I bought a whole other bunch of books at Art in the Park on Saturday (I should really just stay away) so there are a few others calling my name right now too. I’m going to ignore my reader’s ADD though and I’m going to try sticking to one at a time like a good reader.
It’s been a disgracefully busy this week and unfortunately when that happens my poor Noah bears the brunt of all my neglect. Of course he is gloriously understanding and is quite happy to just steal hugs and kisses when he can, never bemoaning his lack of attention. I heard today that this week is Children’s Book Week. Of course, the source of this information was a random post on Facebook so it could be pure rubbish. I like the idea of a week dedicated to children’s book though so I decided to curl up with my little man this evening and have a bit of marathon reading session. We got through about six books before the little man decided that he was exhausted and therefore done humouring me. We’ll have to get through the others tomorrow night I guess…
Today is Harry Potter Day! One day when I am more interesting I shall celebrate these arbitrary holidays with cosplay. I think I’d make a good professor Trelawney actually. Unfortunately today was spent doing big girl work so there were no cloaks or wands. This evening though, I think I should do a tiny bit of celebrating by drinking tea and diving into my favourite of all the Harry Potters: The Order of the Phoenix. Why is it my favourite? Because of Fred and George. Although…. I must admit, I do find Fred and George scenes a little harder to read now that I know Fred’s fate. But, I’ll try not to think of it and just have a good time reading about them anyway. It seems like a good way to break my accidental reading fast.
I am failing at my most sacred passion this month and it is getting me down. Does this ever happen to any of you other book readers out there? I set myself a goal of reading 100 books this year. I’m definitely not going to make it. It’s rather hopelessly too late for that unless I get very serious and take up speed reading.
The thing is…this happens to me every time I read a really good book…or at least one that is good to me. I then struggle to read something else because it’s just not the same. I know this book I’m currently reading is good. It is well written and interesting. But I miss the magic of Sarah Addison Allen. I miss that comfort. Yes, all (ok most) books are wonderful, but some gel so well with our cores that the others start to pale. I’m in one of those pale moods. It makes me sad. And it doesn’t help that I have been editing someone else’s book for the last couple of weeks. Reading for pleasure falls by the wayside when you spend all day reading for work.
So the first book I started reading out of my Angels & Insects pile was a little bit dull and that’s kind of why I haven’t done much reading this week. I kind of blame Sarah Addison Allen for this because every time I read one of her books I end up struggling to read anything else afterwards. So yeah. It’s her fault. Anyway I decided to add a few more books to my pile of books to choose from for this month because the insect books were making me wish I had something different to read. Do you care? No…but my OCD is kind of insisting that structure is good and spontaneity is for other people so yeah. I just changed the structure. That’s ok, right? I think I might start with The Thorn Birds. It’s falling apaprt because I bought it second hand a million years ago and it was one of the first “Grown up” books I ever read as a kid. Will be interesting to see if it makes an impact now that I’m old.
I’m going with Angels & Insects for my reading pleasure during the month of April. I don’t know why. It wasn’t even remotely an idea until just now while I perused my shelves and realised I have quite a few books about angels and quite a few about insects….or at the very least I have quite a few books with angels and insects in the titles. If only I could skip everything else this month and just to a bit of reading… That never actually ends up happening ever, does it? So…. What was I saying again? Oh yes…. Angels & Insects… It’s not a real theme but I’m sticking with it.
Happy reading folks!
I was bullied pretty badly as a kid. I’m sure nothing as serious as what a lot of other people out there have endured, but it was pretty consistent (boring, tedious). I never considered killing myself. I don’t think I ever felt completely hopeless. But I did spend a lot of time in quiet tears that I didn’t let anyone see. It was a stupid thing. One of those things that I considered my problem because asking for help was too hard and I didn’t want anyone else to feel sad because of it. And your friends (and teachers) teach you very quickly that it is your problem and that they’re not actually going to stand up for you or do anything about it. They’re just going to sit on the sidelines and be grateful that you’re the target and not them, and sometimes they’re going to give off a giggle because being cool with the cool kids is what life is really all about. Your square ass doesn’t stand a chance! Kind of stupid I guess but you quickly come to the conclusion that you’re alone on this one, and if you’re lucky, you grow the boobs to deal with it and move on, hopefully unscathed. Continue reading